To the Reader. PHTHONIVS a famous man, wrotein Greke of soche declamacions, to en-structe the studentes thereof, with all fa-cilitée to grounde in them, a moste plenti-ous and riche vein of eloquence. No manis able to inuente a more profitable waieand order, to instructe any one in the ex-quisite and absolute perfeccion, of wisedome and eloquence,then Aphthonius Quintilianus and Hermogenes. Tullie... more...

APRON-STRINGS CHAPTER I "I tell you, there's something funny about it, Steve,—having the wedding out on that scrap of lawn." It was the florist who was speaking. He was a little man, with a brown beard that lent him a professional air. He gave a jerk of the head toward the high bay-window of the Rectory drawing-room, set down his basket of smilax on the well-cared-for Brussels that,... more...

CHAPTER I. MY BIRTHPLACE AND ANCESTRY. The town of Marshalltown, the county seat of Marshall County, in the great State of Iowa, is now a handsome and flourishing place of some thirteen or fourteen thousand inhabitants. I have not had time recently to take the census myself, and so I cannot be expected to certify exactly as to how many men, women and children are contained within the corporate limits.... more...

CHAPTER I. It was evening—evening in Oxford. There are evenings in other places occasionally. Cambridge sometimes puts forward weak imitations. But, on the whole, there are no evenings which have so much of the true, inward, mystic spirit as Oxford evenings. A solemn hush broods over the grey quadrangles, and this, too, in spite of the happy laughter of the undergraduates playing touch last on the... more...

I THE LITTLE FRICTION MATCH I remember being once upon a time ten miles from a store and one mile from a neighbor; the fire had gone out in the night, and the last match failed to blaze. We had no flint and steel. We were neither Indians nor Boy Scouts, and we did not know how to make a fire by twirling a stick. There was nothing to do but to trudge off through the snow to the neighbor a mile away and... more...

A DESCRIPTION OF MUSIC."In the storm, in the smoke, in the fight, I comeTo help thee, dear, with my fife and my drum.My name is Music: and, when the bellRings for the dead men, I rule the knell;And, whenever the mariner wrecked through the blastHears the fog-bell sound, it was I who passed.The poet hath told you how I, a young maid,Came fresh from the gods to the myrtle shade;And thence, by a power... more...

WHAT THE FIGHT IS ABOUT The slum is as old as civilization. Civilization implies a race to get ahead. In a race there are usually some who for one cause or another cannot keep up, or are thrust out from among their fellows. They fall behind, and when they have been left far in the rear they lose hope and ambition, and give up. Thenceforward, if left to their own resources, they are the victims, not the... more...

Foreword My young friend Dennis has honoured me with a request to write a preface to his book. I think a man can best write a preface to his own book, provided he knows it is good. Also if he knows it is bad. "The Sentimental Bloke", while running through the Bulletin, brightened up many dark days for me. He is more perfect than any alleged "larrikin" or Bottle-O character I have ever... more...

CHAPTER I "I call this part of the line beastly depressing." The speaker tossed his cigarette-end away as he spoke. It fell on the railway line, and the tiny smoke from it curled up for a moment against the heavy background of spruce as the train receded. "All the same, this is going to be one of the most exciting parts of Canada before long," said Lady Merton, looking up from her... more...

England has been spending a very busy week celebrating the Queen's Jubilee. On such occasions, when the attention of the world is centred upon a country, it seems to be the custom to publish startling rumors, to keep up the excitement. The Jubilee has been no exception to this rule. The wildest reports have been circulated. One account declared that the Queen was totally blind, and would not be... more...